I'm Sorry I'm Not Sorry
by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands
Summary: Season 7, "Slash Fiction" tag. As Jody drives out to Bobby's hideout, she knows she should consider how to say "I'm sorry," but she's not. So maybe she'll stick to "thank you."


**Prompts:** spnpairingbingo fill "Bobby/Jody"  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural.

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A troublemaker and a drunk.

Jody is fairly certain she once described Bobby that way, maybe in those exact words, and it's been years since she's held that frame of mind, but it still bites her a bit, that she ever thought that way about the man who would save her life.

A hunter of evil and a hero.

Now that was a bit more accurate. He still drinks like a fish to her knowledge and breaks more laws than any repeat offender in her county (Winchesters not included) but those things don't really define the man. Not in her book. There are more important things to consider, like dependability. Dependability is being able to call a fella when monsters are threatening to eat you alive and him showing up to save you instead of running off in the opposite direction. Dependability is a good quality.

And then, he is a bit handsome when he's saving lives, too, so that helps matters. A man in his element always is the most attractive, in her opinion. Not that she ever saw him that way before.

"You've got it bad, Jody Mills," she mutters.

It's the first time she's confessed it to herself, because, hell, she doesn't need that in her life. A friend, yes. Friends are wonderful, even if they are scary and strange on occasion. More than friends? No. She's had more. She's_ lost_ more.

Still, even with that sobering reminder of her past, she smiles faintly as her eyes catch the small sign signaling the turnoff onto a patchwork-quilt of beaten and weathered roadway. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel. If she's right, she should be able to find the place from here. Not that Bobby realizes that. He's not exactly been hiding their location from her, the few times she's attempted to call, check in on him. Or when he's called to do the same for her. But he's dropped enough names and comments, and she's a sheriff who knows how to use her resources.

Especially a resource named Dean Winchester who's been sworn to secrecy.

In summary, Bobby's not expecting her, and she's hoping beer is enough to sate him when he finds her on his front porch. Because she needs this, a few minutes, maybe a few hours. She needs time to figure out a way to say thank you to his face.

Jody knows she should say more than that. She should say sorry, too, but that would probably ruin a good memory, and she has so few with him.

He doesn't know she remembers.

She could tell as much after the phone call, the one he made mid-morning after she'd already gotten the message from her deputy about Singer's Salvage burning. She'd forgotten those few hours of panic, when she couldn't get in touch with Bobby, when she'd heard that two men fitting Sam and Dean's description had been carried to Dr. Monster's current residence. She'd forgotten all that with a wash of relief when she heard his voice, and Bobby had given her a quick blow by blow, leaving out his late night visit.

Jody chuckles, because she knows she should probably want him to forget it. She was the one high on pain pills when he unexpectedly walked through her door, nearly an hour after the taxi had dropped her off. She'd already popped a few prescription and collapsed on the couch, hoping the stitches in her side would allow her to roll off of it by morning.

Bobby Singer didn't need a key, but he knew where her spare was, nevertheless. She'd barely woken, smiling up at him as he tucked a blanket around her, said something about the monster still being out there. She hadn't been afraid, either because pain relievers really were the path to bliss or because he was walking around her house, scratching a few symbols into her window frames. Protecting her.

Bobby probably thinks she was too out of it to remember him putting a soft kiss against her forehead, right before he headed out.

Jody shakes her head. No. She won't say she's sorry about the house, sorry he wasn't there when the boys were attacked, sorry he was too busy looking in on her. She's only sorry she's not sorry. Because if he hadn't been there, wrapping a blanket around her, pouring her a cup of water, muttering his worries about Sam and Dean…If he wasn't there, he would have been home already.

So, no. Not the least bit sorry.

"But I will say thank you," she promises, still smiling.


End file.
